


The Transition

by ceisadilla



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, Species Dysphoria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceisadilla/pseuds/ceisadilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cronus cannot live a lie. He is human, and will stop at no lengths to present himself as such.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Transition

“Are you ready?” I ask, unsure if the question is directed towards Cronus or myself, though I already know my own answer. No, not at all, I am most certainly not ready.

Cronus has somehow come across a bone saw for this part of the transition, along with a… I can barely even look at it. A bread knife, for the softer parts. The thought is enough to bring a lump to my throat. I have helped him apply make up to cover his grey skin, I have painted over his yellow nails, watched him struggle with contact lenses to bring colour to his lifeless eyes, but I do not think I am prepared to watch him mutilate himself.

Kankri Vantas, how dare you. How dare you even think of this as mutilation? This troll, no, this person is as deserving as anyone to feel comfortable in their own skin, and it is your duty as his best friend to support him. If that support involves helping him to saw off his horns, then so be it.

“I’m ready, Kan,” Cronus calls. He sat upon the human bed he has recently acquired. His shirt has been slung over the back of a chair, and he is dressed in an old pair of trousers, to cut back on the amount of washing we will need to do afterwards. Old towels are spread over the bed, layers of them. “Time for them to go. Need to get this part over with, huh?” He gives me a smile with those jagged teeth that probably will be the next things to change. Cronus nods to the saw on the side table. I pick it up, and pass it to him.

His hands are cold against mine, though not as cold as the harsh, unforgiving metal of the saw. My teeth are clenching hard enough to make my jaw ache as he takes the saw in both his hands, raising the serrated blade to meet his ridged horns.

“Kan?” His voice breaks my trance. “I’m gonna need you to hold my horns real tight, to keep my head steady.” I bow my head, and climb onto the bed, kneeling behind him. The ridges of his horns feel rough on my soft palms. Cronus procrastinates. He adjusts his grip, sighs, adjusts it again, hums and huffs, and eventually, and without warning, he makes the first grating saw into his horns.

The vibration rumble through my very bones and up my arms. Breath hisses through his teeth. “Not as bad as I thought,” he murmurs. Reddish dust from the outer layer of his horns has settled upon his unstyled, black hair. “Let’s keep going, huh?”  
“When you’re ready,” I agree.

He goes on. The saw makes a rough, stomach churning growl as it eats through the horns he may have shared with his ancestors, if you are one who believes in such a thing. The small hisses have changed to quiet grunts, and his grip on the saw has grown tighter and tighter. We are but a few strokes of the saw in, and white powder is joining the red. Cronus is sawing through his bones, and the sickening scrape of metal is showing no sign of stopping.

“How am I doing?” He asks in one quick breath.  
“Well. You’re going through bone right now. I’d say you are about a third of the way through. Are you feeling well?” The question has slipped before I can push it back, but my concern for him is too deep.  
“I’m okay,” he confirms, though the saw falls silent. He lowers it, and raises a curious hand to his left horn, tracing a fingertip over the rut. “I’m doing okay,” he says, mostly to himself. The hand moves up, and touches mine. “I want to keep goin’.” He has answered my unspoken question. “But Kan, I need to see this through to the end. Can you do that for me?” He has asked what I didn’t want to hear. I never wanted to hear that.

“Yes.” I agree without hesitation. “That’s why I’m here.”  
“Good. Let’s go.”  
The saw glints in the cool lighting of the respiteblock, and settles into place in the deep slice. Cronus pulls it to the side, and it unleashes a hungry snarl, which nearly drowns out the gasp of pain. I cannot tune him out. Each breath is sharp, each exhale shaken, and each quick, rugged cut is getting closer and closer to the core, and if grating through bone is bad enough to make Cronus Ampora groan and gasp in pain, then ripping through nerves and veins and who knows what else is going to be unbearable. The worst part is, he is already so, so close.

Scrape. My own hands hurt from these vicious vibrations.

Scrape. He’s holding back his pain; there’s sweat beading on the back of his neck.

Scrape. Head injuries bleed the most. There’s going to be a lot of blood.

Cronus’ cry is choked, and raw. He masks the sound of the saw. I lean over a little and see a trickle of violet blood trailing slowly down, infiltrating each small groove in the horns. Cronus is whispering curses under his breath, and from the corner of my eye, I see his gills flutter.

He makes a second tear into the soft tissue, his whine sends a chill up my spine. He’s trembling, I can feel him, I can see his damp hands shaking. His fingers tense for the next cut, but he doesn’t move.  
“Kan.” He’s crying. “Kankri, I can’t.” His voice is strained. I am without words, I cannot even comfort him as I release his horns from my tight grasp, and roll up the woollen sleeves of my sweater. I grasp his right horn, and with my other hand I take the loathsome saw. It fits so well into the rut Cronus has made already.

“Are you ready?” I hear myself ask.  
“Do it, Kankri. Please.” The quicker, the better.

I drag the saw through bone and flesh. It growls viciously at me, and I push it again. Beneath the fearsome grind whispers a wet, slick sound which strains my stomach, and beneath that is Cronus’ shallow breaths. I’m more than halfway after a few more strokes of the saw. His hair shines purple and I try not to look. I keep sawing. Cronus’ hands tightly grip the towels. His screams have long fallen silent, as though he cannot muster enough breath for one. 

I am almost there. I need to get this over with, for Cronus. My grip loosens slightly on his horn.   
“This next part will be bad, because I am going to do it quickly. This is the last bit, may I be rougher to finish it quickly?” He gives a bare nod. No hesitation. “Thank you. Just say the word if you need me to stop.”

My grip tightens once more, and I tear the saw through his bones. If he screams, my mind has drowned it out with the screams inside my own head, forcing myself to go on. The slices are quick, one after the other, unrelenting. I stop only when the blade has broken through to the other side, and I hold a horn in my hand. Violet drips from it in large beads onto the towel I am kneeling on, blossoming across the soft, white cloth. I look to the bloody stump which remains. One horn still stands.

“Is it over?” Cronus gasps.  
“One left,” I respond.  
“By how much?”  
“One more slice would do it,” I guess, readying myself for the final cut.

“Snap it off. Half the pain is the flat of the blade dragging.” Cronus is desperate. I remove the saw, and place it on a towel, alongside his removed horn.

I firmly hold the base of the remaining horn. It’s sticky with blood, like his hair. I take the top of the horn in my other hand, and pull. A crack echoes in the room, and it snaps off without much resistance.

Cronus slumps backwards, and I catch him, wrapping my arms around his chest.   
“Shhh, it’s over,” I sooth him. “It’s over. Are you conscious?”

“Yeah.” His voice is but a hoarse whisper. I grab a towel, and hold it to his head. He catches on, and raises his feeble arms, holding the towel to the stumps.   
He is wet with blood, it’s so cold.

“I’m going to take you to the bathroom, and run you a bath. We’ll get you clean, you’ll be better soon, alright?” Am I reassuring myself or Cronus?  
“Mkay.”

I hold him a moment longer, my eyes tightly shut. A coppery smell burns my nose.  
It is my duty as his best friend to help him through this, and I will need so much strength to continue.


End file.
